


Night Like This

by MiraculousTrash (AdriannaRhode)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, I'm not sorry, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-superhero AU, This was supposed to be really short, adrien is an astronomer, adrienette - Freeform, cute things happen in a taxi, longform adaption of a hilary duff song, marinette is marinette, meet cute, misuse of astronomical techniques, nobody asked for this, only more, the umbrella scene, the world's most patient cab driver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:04:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8061073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdriannaRhode/pseuds/MiraculousTrash
Summary: Then the rain stopped. 
Or, no, it didn’t stop. Rather, Marinette noticed, someone was holding a large black umbrella over her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Way back in the day, when I was but a young'un, I was a huge fan of songfics. You know the ones; short fics that match up perfectly with the lyrics of a song. Well, that's what this was supposed to be, until I started having feelings and it grew completely out of control. 
> 
> This is based on/taken from the song "Night Like This" by Hilary Duff feat. Kendall Schmidt. It's literally such a perfect duet, it just screamed Adrienette. Give it a listen as you read.

Long nights at the office tended to send you into a tense, exhausted tailspin. Especially when you do six of them a week. For two months. That’s when work ethic ends and obsession begins. 

Marinette knew that. 

That’s why she had decided to call that particular Friday work night to a close somewhere around the eleven-thirty mark, which was ridiculously early by her standards. 

She hated to do it. An up-and-coming fashion designer working her heart and soul into an independent brand needed to stay dedicated. But Marinette had been passing time by keeping careful track, night after night, as the moon shifted from full to waning to waxing and back to full. That night, though patchy clouds threatened to swallow it up, the moon hung low and yellow and perfectly round in the sky. One month. She hadn’t truly been away from work for over a month.

So Marinette found herself on the curb outside her office building, moonlight putting the streetlamps to shame as she attempted to hail a cab. A chilly wind drove through last year’s coat, which, though pulled tightly closed, was just threadbare enough to betray her. At least it was warm in the office.

‘Office’ was a strong word to use to describe the workspace, Marinette mused. It was more like a closet, a closet with a desk and a coffee maker and bolts of fabric piled in every spare inch of space. It was, however, a warm closet. 

And dry. Marinette tipped her head back to feel the first tentative raindrops from the steadily gathering clouds. She didn’t think to carry her umbrella, not with the steady company of the moon shining through her office window like daylight.

Oh, well. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, resigned to the cold pitter-patter of rain against her face, memorizing the feeling after weeks of mind-numbing time shut up indoors. 

Then the rain stopped. 

Or, no, it didn’t stop. Rather, Marinette noticed, someone was holding a large black umbrella over her. 

Her gaze traveled down the umbrella handle to a long-fingered hand that gripped it tight. Then there was a sleeve, a forest green cable-knit sweater sleeve that went up and up and up until it reached a shoulder. Connected to the shoulder, inside the sweater, was a man. 

A boy, maybe. Marinette wasn’t sure. Was she still considered a girl, all grown up and out of college? If she was still a girl, this round-cheeked stranger was still a boy.

He had blonde hair, nevertheless. It fell in messy waves down over his ears and stopped right above his startlingly green eyes. Neat, arching eyebrows. A sharp sloping nose. Perfect skin. Delicate lips that moved – oh, damn it all, he was talking to her. And she wasn’t listening. 

“I’m sorry?” she blurted, embarrassed, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

The boy blinked, and started again, “I said, you looked so happy there in the rain. But I didn’t want you to get cold, so…”

Happy? Did she look happy? 

She asked him as much. 

“You were smiling. I’ve never seen someone looking so ecstatic to be outside in the rain,” he replied.

“Oh.” 

Marinette didn’t have else anything to say to that. Happy. Huh. 

“What brings you here so late?” the boy asked. 

“I’m trying to get a cab. But at midnight, on Friday…” Marinette trailed off helplessly, aimlessly.

But the boy nodded, “It’s impossible.”

“Yeah.”

“Where you going?”

“Downtown.”

“So am I.”

It hit Marinette in that moment that the boy was _attractive_. Beautiful, even. He stood there looking at her with big honest eyes and a hint of a smirk twitching on the corner of his mouth, and he was beautiful. 

“Stay here,” he said, and Marinette’s heart stopped beating until he added, “Where it’s dry. I can share the umbrella.” 

Marinette dropped her purse. 

The metal furnishings on the straps clattered loudly against the pavement, splashing flecks of water onto her hands as she scrambled to catch the bag. She cursed herself silently, wondering if it was the exhaustion or the pretty face that had addled her brain and caused some motor malfunctions. 

But the boy seemed unbothered. He leaned down and retrieved the offending object from its sad little puddle, and handed it back to her with a grin. 

“Thanks. I’m p-pretty clumsy,” Marinette heard herself say. 

“No worries,” he smiled, “Hey, if we’re going the same way…”

He trailed off, looking unsure, fiddling with the zipper of a leather messenger bag that was slung over his shoulder, and Marinette’s hammering pulse got the best of her.

“Maybe we should share a ride.”

\--------------------

Adrien wasn’t sure that he heard her right. 

Honestly, Adrien wasn’t sure of anything. 

He had been on his way home from a late-night study session with the rest of his physics class. The Master’s-level coursework was nothing like he was used to, but in order to get anywhere close to the stars, he needed the degree. 

Sure, modeling for his uber rich-and-famous father’s company brought him close to stars, but not the right kind. He much preferred the kind that were a billion miles away and didn’t try to coerce him into eating nothing but protein shakes for nine months a year. 

So Adrien had spent the evening on his back in the grass on the lawn of his university’s quad, documenting the movement of the moon and the constellations with six other aspiring astronomers, hoping that the encroaching clouds would stay away long enough for them to finish sketching out their star charts. Of course, his luck didn’t hold out. It never did. Raindrops sprinkled down on their notebooks, and the study group agreed to try again the next night. 

He was waiting for a cab on the next streetcorner, black umbrella open above him, when he saw her. 

A girl stood at the next intersection, face tipped up at the sky. Her eyes were screwed shut, and her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders, her arms spread wide as if inviting the clouds in. The wind tugged at her long coat, pulling it back to reveal a full red skirt with big black spots. 

Adrien watched. The girl didn’t notice, which was just as well because he was enjoying looking at her. She was beautiful, he realized, beautiful enough to outshine the damp Paris scenery and winking moon.

Raindrops, growing heavier now, were trailing across her bare face and running down to drip off the loose ends of her hair. Her tiny calm smile didn’t falter. It was fascinating. What was she doing? Did she even notice that she was soaking wet?

But it was cold out, and the rain didn’t seem like it was going to let up any time soon. Adrien hesitated, looked both ways, and then crossed the street. That girl was going to catch her death of cold if she stayed like that. 

He didn’t know what to say to her. There was nothing that seemed right. He held his umbrella out, leaving himself out under the waning moonlight and shielding her from the cold rain.

The girl opened her eyes. 

She looked at his umbrella, and then at his hand. His arm. And slowly, slowly, her gaze traveled to his face. And stayed there.

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” he said quickly, “You just looked like you needed to get out of the rain. It’s cold, I mean, and…”

Oh, God, he was rambling. Her eyes were so _blue_. Was she creeped out? Was she scared of him? Words kept spilling out of Adrien’s mouth, desperate to fill the space between them. 

And all of a sudden, the girl squeaked, “I’m sorry?!”

She wasn’t even listening. What a relief.

Adrien took a breath, and started again, “I said, you looked so happy there in the rain. But I didn’t want you to get cold, so…”

“Did I look happy?” the girl asked, seeming surprised. 

“You were smiling. I’ve never seen someone looking so ecstatic to be outside in the rain.”

\--------------------

“It would be easier to share,” the boy mused. 

Marinette nodded, horrified that her mouth had taken control of the situation so quickly. Before she could try to remedy her words and maybe not inconvenience a pretty stranger who was just trying to be nice to her, the umbrella was eased into her hand. The boy had turned attentively toward the street.

He pointed at a set of oncoming headlights, “I’ll just-”

As luck would have it, the car was indeed a cab. The boy waved one hand curtly, and the cab slowed to a stop at the curb in front of him.

He walked over and greeted the driver through the rolled-down window, and tugged the back door open. Marinette waited with a pang of uneasiness for him to gesture her inside first. There was something uncomfortable about the idea of this guy cutting off the exit like that. But he didn’t. Instead, the boy climbed right in.

“Come on!” he called. 

That was…new. Who was this guy?

So Marinette carefully closed the umbrella, giving herself another moment for alarms to go off in her head and convince her not to get into a car with a stranger. 

But nothing happened. 

Curiosity tingling under her skin, she pushed the umbrella into the back seat, and slid inside after it. The boy was sitting primly in his seat, leather bag tucked neatly next to his legs, looking at something on his phone. 

Marinette folded her skirt carefully around her legs, trying not to crush the damp fabric any more than necessary. It gave her something to do with her hands as the cab pulled away, leaving her office building behind. 

They rode in silence for a first several minutes. The boy had pulled several sheets of paper out of his bag, and was looking between them and his phone. His jaw muscles worked as he chewed on his tongue thoughtfully. Not that Marinette noticed. 

She was checking her own email, mostly. But she couldn’t help but peek over at him every once in a while. Every few seconds, maybe. But it wasn’t staring. Definitely. She definitely wasn’t staring. 

Then he spoke, and Marinette jumped out of her skin.

“Can you draw?” 

Her eyes darted up from where they were fixated on his lips, and met his intense green gaze. His eyebrow was cocked expectantly. 

“What?” she yelped. 

“Can you draw?” he repeated. 

Marinette shrugged, wincing as her cold wet jacket slid across her shoulders, “I guess.”

Yeah, she guessed. She had a fashion design degree and drew clothes for a living, but she _guessed_ she could draw. 

“I mean, yes,” she corrected.

“Cool,” the boy handed her one of the papers, “Can you help me with this outline?” 

She took it. It wasn’t much of a drawing. The piece of graph paper was scattered with dots, each labeled something completely unintelligible, εPeg, βPeg, and so on. 

“What do you want me to do?” she asked.

The boy looked sheepish, “Draw lines connecting them?”

Marinette laughed. She couldn’t help it. She tried to stifle the giggle, but the idea of this boy asking her to help him do a connect-the-dots was too much. 

“Don’t laugh!” he protested. 

“I’m sorry!” she said, covering her mouth with one hand, “Do you have a pen?”

He dug around in his bag, and pulled out a pencil. She reached for the proffered tool, and when their fingers brushed around it, she was surprised at the sudden emergence of butterflies in her stomach. 

\--------------------

She was laughing at him. 

Not really, but Adrien’s cheeks burned with a blush at the sound of her laugh, light and sweet. And when their hands touched, he swore he could feel his face going supernova. He didn’t usually enjoy car rides, but he kind of wouldn’t mind if the cab hit every red light…

“You really can’t draw, huh?” she asked, busily tracing lines between the stars on his star chart. 

“Not at all,” Adrien replied. 

“What is this, anyway?” 

“Stars.” 

She glanced up at him, her fingers still sketching out perfectly straight lines of their own accord. Her blue eyes were sparkling. 

“Is that what all those symbols are for?” she asked eagerly. 

He nodded, “I have to map out constellations and stuff for practice. Everyone’s done them all a million times, of course, but it helps for when we have to try to map new findings.”

“What’s this one?”

“Pegasus.”

The girl turned her attention back to the paper, “Peg. Right?” 

“Yeah.”

“Here.”

Adrien took the sheet back from her. In short, clean strokes, she had perfectly outlined the constellation. He had never really understood why those stars were supposed to be a winged horse, but her drawing made it look almost right. 

Oh, God. He was losing it. He planted one hand on the empty space between them, as if to steady himself.

“I’m an astronomer,” he said.

“I guessed,” the girl replied. 

“Well, not yet. I’m in grad school.”

“Nice.”

Adrien winced. He was so awkward.

“Means I have lots of these. This one is moon phases,” he said quickly, handing her another paper. 

She looked over the sheet intently, a smile ghosting over her lips. Her finger traced over the dates and times he had jotted next to every rough outline of a moon, waning, waxing, and full.

“That’s why I was standing out there,” she said, finally. 

“Why?” Adrien asked. 

“I was looking at the moon.”

He grinned, “Your eyes were closed.”

“Okay,” she amended, “I was enjoying the moon.” 

She placed the paper down on the empty seat, and let her hand come to rest right on top of his. 

\--------------------

Misfire. Misfire.

Marinette had accidentally misfired and was basically holding a strange boy’s hand in the back of a taxi. 

But he didn’t seem to mind. Rather, he shifted his hand until his fingers spread apart, and hers linked in between them. His thumb brushed up, once, twice, tracing over the side of her hand in a surprisingly tender gesture. 

“Sorry,” he said, offhandedly, “I can just-”

“It’s okay!” Marinette said, too loud. 

The cab driver must have been some kind of minor saint, because he didn’t even flinch. Neither did the boy. Instead, he kept brushing his thumb across her knuckle.

“Your hand is freezing,” he said.

Marinette gaped for a few seconds before replying, “Oh, no, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, of c-course!”

What was wrong with her? She was stammering and blushing like a lovesick schoolgirl. Just because he was an aspiring astronomer with big dreamy green eyes who made dorky grandpa sweaters look hot – wait. Hot? Hot?! 

She glanced at the boy. His attention had returned to the papers. He read down a page, scanning the lines with his free hand, seemingly unconcerned with the miniature crisis Marinette was having in the next seat. 

“Where’s your stop?” he asked absently. 

“Gotlib Street.”

“Okay. That’s coming up soon.”

Marinette wasn’t sure, but she thought she could hear a pang of disappointment in his voice. 

\--------------------

Adrien had been doing such a good job at staying cool. 

He wasn’t oversharing too much. He was being attentive but not pushy (damn his weak little heart that wanted to get this girl into some dry clothes before she got sick!). And he was inexplicably holding her hand.

But no, his voice had to start dripping with _feelings_ when she revealed that her stop was coming up in a few blocks. It was inevitable, he guessed, what with the way his chest buzzed with excitement. 

“So, what do you do?” Adrien asked, trying desperately to calm his nerves. 

“I’m a designer.”

Oh?

“What kind?” he asked.

She toyed with the hem of her skirt with her free hand, “Fashion.”

“Cool. I know lots of people in that business.”

And wasn’t that just the biggest understatement of the century. Adrien’s father was Gabriel Agreste, one of the biggest names in fashion. If this girl knew that, she would either jump out of the cab and run or kidnap him on the spot. 

The girl nodded. Obviously, she wasn’t going to say much on the subject.

“Make anything good lately?” Adrien tried. 

“This.”

He looked down, and saw her pointing at the skirt she wore. 

“Oh,” he said, not bothering to disguise the wonder in his voice, “Wow!”

“It’s getting late,” the girl commented, as if to change the subject. 

He tugged his gaze away from her skirt, forcing himself not to stare down at their joined hands in fear that a goofy grin would overtake his carefully arranged casual demeanor. 

“It is,” he agreed. 

“I never thought of myself as someone who’d have a meet cute story,” she said.

Her hand immediately flew away from his and clapped over her mouth, as though she had said something inexcusable. Adrien looked up at her, startled, and found her face flushed a deep red that rivaled the color of that self-designed skirt. 

“A meet cute,” he repeated, elation bubbling up inside him. 

“I’m sorry!”

\--------------------

Marinette was ready to die. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud! 

It didn’t seem to have hurt, though. 

The boy grinned sidelong at her, “This is our meet cute?” 

She squeaked, mortified, “No! I mean, maybe? It’s so late, I’m exhausted, I can just-”

“Your stop is soon,” he agreed. 

But something inside Marinette was not about to let those eager green eyes leave. 

Her hands snaked up to his shoulders and twisted into the forest-green knit. With one tug that sent papers cascading to the floor of the cab, she pulled him in close and kissed him. 

BAD IDEA. 

Her brain started screaming at her, sending out the creepy-thing-to-do-to-someone-you-just-met alarm. What was she doing?! 

\--------------------

What was she doing?! 

Adrien barely had the headspace to wonder as the girl fisted her hands in his sweater, as if she was afraid he was going to pull away. Tentatively, he shifted, pivoting in the seat so that they were facing each other more directly. 

But she pushed away from him, as abruptly as if he had electric-shocked her. 

“I’m so sorry!” she yelped, voice wobbling, “I don’t know what-”

“Was that okay for you?” Adrien interrupted. 

He didn’t know quite what he was doing. But she nodded. 

“Yes, of course. But I’m-”

“Would you want…could I kiss you again?”

Her blue eyes went round as saucers. 

“Yes.”

Yes. She wanted to kiss him again. 

“I’m going to kiss you again,” said Adrien, softly. 

“Okay.”

\--------------------

The boy leaned in, closing the space between them slowly. Marinette didn’t close her eyes yet, and neither did he. 

She could see the full moon reflected in his eyes. It was the last thing she saw before their lips met and her eyes fluttered shut. 

The kiss was searing, leisurely. One of his hands came up to hold her face gently, thumb stroking her cheek. She let one of her arms rest on his shoulder, fingers playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck. He was warm, and solid, and so, so near. 

\--------------------

Adrien’s absolute bliss was ruined by the cab driver clearing his throat. 

“Gotlib Street,” said the driver, almost apologetically. 

The girl pulled away from him, her cheeks satisfyingly pink. She slung her purse over her shoulder, and tried twice to open the door before she managed it. 

“Thanks for the ride,” she said to the driver. 

And she moved to close the door.

\--------------------

Marinette was ready to leave that taxi and pretend that none of that had ever happened. She had never been so embarrassed, so vulnerable, so… _attracted to someone_ in her whole life. 

But she couldn’t shut the door. 

The boy had slid across the backseat in the nick of time, and held the door open. He climbed out of the cab, all crumpled papers and messy blonde hair. 

“Thank you!” he called to the taxi driver. 

And the cab sped off, leaving them there together.

\--------------------

A beat of silence, and then Adrien said, “I paid for the cab.”

“Good,” said the girl, her voice flat.

More silence. 

“Thank you,” she amended. 

“No problem.” 

Adrien began tucking his papers away in his leather satchel, easy as anything. He was sure that the girl thought he was absolutely crazy.

“I realized,” he said slowly, “That I don’t even know your name.”

He thought that she was blushing before, but it was nothing compared to the way her face burned with embarrassment when he said that. 

As soon as she was able, she stammered, “I’m Marinette.”

Marinette. Adrien beamed. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, committing the name to memory, and then replied. 

“I’m Adrien.”

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for nothing. Although, I do not recommend meeting potential partners in this way. Don't get cozy with strangers on public transport, kids.
> 
> If you liked it, leave me a comment and tell me so!! If this tickled your fancy and you want more of my writing, make sure to check out all the other Miraculous fics I've written! And if you're annoyed that I'm writing drabbles instead of updating my multichapter fic...well...oops. Okay babies I love you bye!!


End file.
